


The Last Beat Of My Heart

by Yahtzee



Category: Alias, Moonlight (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Gen, Post Season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rambaldi's promises of immortality mean nothing to vampires ... but Josef's always had a penchant for collecting shiny things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Beat Of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faos](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=faos).



It began like a pulp novel: A beautiful, mysterious woman walked in with a problem only a PI could solve. 

Of course, in most pulp novels, the detective has a shabby office, instead of doing business from his apartment. Also, the detective is rarely a vampire. But the rest of the picture was pretty dead-on, especially my new client. Stiletto heels, red lipstick, a black dress that outlined a knockout figure: She only lacked a pair of fishnet stockings. I wish those hadn’t gone out of style. 

She wasn’t beautiful the way Beth was. Beth had fair hair, and soft eyes, and an open face that revealed every single emotion she felt. This woman’s hair was dark, and her eyes were hard. Her face revealed nothing. Maybe she should’ve reminded me of Coraline, but she didn’t. There was something solid about her -- something decent. I decided to trust my instincts with this one. 

“My name is Sydney Bristow,” she said. Most clients prefer to take a seat; she stood. “I need your help.” 

“You don’t seem like a lady who needs much help.” Actually, she looked like one of the very few humans who would stand a chance of kicking my ass. 

“We all need help sometimes, Mr. St. John.” 

I couldn’t argue with that. “What can I do for you? An ex causing you problems? Dealing with workplace intrigue?” 

Something about the phrase “workplace intrigue” made the corners of her eyes wrinkle, as though she wanted to smile but couldn’t quite do it. “I understand that you do business with Josef Kostan.” 

The minute Josef’s name entered any conversation, everything got a whole lot more complicated. “That’s true.” 

“I’d like to do business with him as well. But I can’t be seen doing business with him. I could approach him covertly, but I think going through a trusted common associate might work best.” 

Josef’s security measures were pretty tight. I wondered if Sydney was fooling herself about being able to approach him covertly. Given her matter-of-fact confidence, maybe not. “Do I get to know what this business is about? Or is this about my making introductions?” 

“I’d prefer never to meet Mr. Kostan. It would be better if you handled the transfer of payment and merchandise.” 

“And what’s the merchandise?” Designer drugs, I figured. Or some arcane vampire lore. That was the kind of thing Josef got himself mixed up in. Didn’t seem much like this woman’s style, though. 

“A mixture devised in the 15th century by a man named Milo Rambaldi.” This meant nothing to me until she added, “It was briefly mass-produced during the French Revolution, but since then it’s been underground. On the street, I think it’s simply known as ‘the cure.’” 

How the hell did a human know about the cure? I breathed in sharply, wondering if Sydney was a vampire and I’d somehow missed it. Nope. So what did she want with a solution that took away vampires’ immortality and turned them human again? 

It didn’t matter, I figured, because she was barking up the wrong tree. 

“Josef doesn’t have a supply of the cure,” I said. “If he did, he’d tell me.” 

“He has a supply, and the ability to make as much as he wants on top of that. He’s had that capability ever since he acquired his latest stash of Rambaldi artifacts. By the way, congratulate him for me; breaking into the DSR isn’t easy. His team had to be top-notch.” Sydney folded her arms. “I’m not interested in telling the DSR who the thief was. As far as I’m concerned, the faster Rambaldi’s toys get lost, the better. All I want is to acquire a significant amount of the cure, and I’m tired of wasting time. I realize how much it would cost. I can pay.” 

“Assuming all this is true, what does a living woman need with the cure?” 

She didn’t flinch at my referring to her as living. Apparently being around vampires didn’t faze her. “Mr. Kostan doesn’t need to know that.” 

“No, he doesn’t. But I do.” 

Sydney hesitated. I could see her taking my measure as thoroughly as I’d taken hers. I must’ve passed the test because she said, slowly, “A man has made himself immortal. Not – your way. Through Rambaldi’s other works. I think the cure can make him mortal again. He has to be stopped. Without the cure, I can’t stop him.” 

“You want the cure so you can kill someone.” 

“Yes.” 

“No deal.” 

“This man killed my father,” she said. “He killed my fiancé. He may have killed my sister. And that’s not even getting into the hundreds or even thousands of people he killed while running an international crime syndicate. He always had a God complex, and that was before he had eternal life. Now? I don’t even want to think about what he might do next.” 

If Sydney were telling the truth, then maybe she needed help – though I still didn’t believe Josef could really be holding out on me about the cure. If she were lying, I needed to learn a lot more about what she was really after. 

“Tell me the guy’s name,” I said. “I’ll do some digging and get back to you.” 

“His name is Arvin Sloane. He apparently left Mongolia earlier this week. I have reason to believe he’s coming to Los Angeles, and soon.” Despite her desperate errand, Sydney’s eyes held a glint of humor as she said, “Dig fast, Mr. St. John.” 

“Call me Mick,” I said, but she was already headed out the door. 

**

“Find anything?” I called as I stepped into the DA’s office. 

“I found everything.” Beth sat at her new assistant investigator’s desk, staring at her computer monitor in something like awe. “Mick, seriously, this name you texted me, Arvin Sloane? He turns out to be one of the biggest criminal warlords this city has ever seen. Maybe this whole country. The files – they go on forever, and those are just the ones I have clearance to read. I think there’s a lot more information I can’t get at.” 

“Sounds like a job for Logan.” I took a seat by her side. She smelled homier than Sydney had – like the grilled chicken she’d had for lunch, and the crisp scent of Ivory soap, and the sunflowers she kept in a vase at home. If you ask me, that’s sexier than Chanel Number Nine any day. I hadn’t yet become accustomed to seeing Beth in business suits, but the crisp look suited her. I wanted to tell her she had a sort of hot librarian thing going on, but that was maybe a conversation we needed to have only after we’d crossed the line and become lovers. 

If we ever did. As much as I loved Beth, as much as I needed her, I still wasn’t convinced that we didn’t need some final barrier between us – something that would free Beth to have a normal life someday, if she wanted. 

She tapped one fingernail against her computer screen. “He ran some huge operation out of L.A. There were municipal offenses as well as the more substantive state and federal charges. But – get this – he apparently got pardoned for everything and ran a charity out of Switzerland for a few years. Omnifam – did you ever get those brochures? Do vampires get junk mail?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Marketers will even try to sell to the dead.” 

Beth smiled, and I wanted to smile back at her. But the long list of offenses under the name Arvin Sloane on her screen kept tugging at me. The last ones were recent, so apparently Omnifam had been only cover for Sloane’s illicit activities. In other words, Sydney Bristow seemed to be telling the truth about this guy being bad news. If he’d gained immortality, he was definitely dangerous. That should’ve bothered me more than it did, but I was distracted by another question. 

Was she telling the truth about Josef, too? Could my best friend have found a supply of the cure – even acquired the ability to make as much as he wanted – and not told me? 

Even knowing that I wanted to be human, and to be with Beth, more than anything in the world? 

“Mick? What’s wrong?” Beth’s fingers brushed against my wrist. “The reports list Sloane as dead. Are they incorrect?” 

“I’m trying to find out.” I stood and adjusted the collar of my jacket. “Gotta go talk to Josef.” 

“Does Josef know something about this?” 

“I hope not.” 

**

Josef’s new corporate headquarters had a penthouse gym – supposedly for “executive fitness.” Like Josef could gain weight even if he wanted to. Really, the gym was an excuse for a rooftop Jacuzzi. 

“Mick!” Josef bobbed within a circle of a half-dozen freshies, most of them brunettes. “Tell me you brought your suit. If not, hey – nobody’s modest in here.” The girls giggled. In one hand Josef held a cigar – in the other, a martini. As audacious as his tastes were, I had to admit: For a dead guy, he really knew how to live. 

“Not in the mood.” I stood at the edge of the pool, which glowed like an aquamarine jewel in the L.A. night. Steam from the Jacuzzi wreathed around my feet. “Can we have a word?” 

“We can have several. A couple hundred, even. Anything for you, Mick.” 

“In private.” 

Josef sighed. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me?” 

They’d excuse him; he was paying them enough. 

He took his time getting out of the tub, refilling his martini glass and slipping into an elaborate brocade robe. Maybe he sensed the conversation we were about to have wouldn’t be pleasant. Not that I was in any rush to accuse my best friend of hiding the cure from me, either. 

But we got a whole lot more rushed when a security alarm started to howl. It wasn’t a standard alarm – something different, maybe more specific. 

“What the hell?” Josef took off, with me only a couple of steps behind. We ran down the stairwell, past Josef’s office. 

“Where are we headed?” I shouted. I would’ve thought the most secure data and valuables would be in Josef’s safe. 

Josef called back, “The Rambaldi room.” 

That name again. He’d been holding out on me after all. Son of a bitch. 

We reached the 47th floor of Josef’s new building, and Josef hurriedly jabbed in a security code. I’d never seen that kind of security on an emergency exit before. Apparently Josef felt that an intruder would be better off dead than getting away with what was inside. We ran inside – to come face to face with a ransacked room, and a blond man in black holding a gun on us while clutching some weird gold clockwork thing to his chest. 

Josef laughed. “That gun’s not going to help you much.” He growled as he vamped out, and I braced myself to do the same. 

But the intruder didn’t blink. He just fired the gun – at a panel on the wall, which sent a metal security grate slamming down, cutting me and Josef off so that all we could do was stand and watch him. 

This guy had come prepared. He knew what he was dealing with. 

“You won’t get far,” I said to the intruder, trying to stall. The security alarm meant guards would be here as backup within moments. “What could you want with this stuff?”

“Rambaldi’s works can serve many purposes.” The intruder had a clipped British accent and pale blue eyes that seemed to stare through me. “Including mine.” 

With that, the intruder ran for the elevator shaft – though there was no elevator inside. For one split second, I thought he was about to hurl himself to his death, but it turned out he was counting on the elevator not being there. A waiting clip and cable allowed him to slide down the shaft. He’d be on the ground in seconds, off the premise within a minute. No doubt he’d just hurtled past all the guards who were supposed to catch him. 

“Son of a bitch!” Josef slammed his hand against a now-empty pedestal. His eyes were still milky-white with vampiric rage. “They cleaned me out.” 

As the immediate shock of the break-in faded, the hard knowledge of what Josef had done to me – what he hadn’t done for me – settled in. My hands clenched into fists. “You had the cure.” 

Josef slowly turned to look at me, his face becoming humanlike once more. He didn’t deny it. 

“You know how badly I wanted to be alive again. How hard it was for me to give it up last time –“

“But you did give it up. Remember?” 

“Because I had to! And it was my decision. Now you think I don’t even deserve to decide.” My anger began changing into something else – raw hurt. I never could figure out why I kept expecting better from Josef. But I always did, and I was always disappointed. “Do you really hate humanity that much, Josef? So much that you’d even hate it in me?” 

For a few seconds, Josef said nothing. The security alarm continued to blare, shrieking about a crime that was already over, until it squealed once and was silent. 

Quietly, Josef said, “I’ve learned something about Rambaldi, Mick. Coming into contact with anything he created – it has a price.” 

“One you’re willing to pay.” 

“I can handle this stuff because Rambaldi has nothing to offer me. Most of his followers want immortality. I kind of have that covered.” Josef smirked, but there was a rueful edge to his smile. “Power? Got that too. Money? Not really an issue. To put this in pop culture terms from your own century, I can touch the Kryptonite. Not you, Superman. You want that cure too badly.” He meant, I wanted Beth too badly. 

“Thanks for giving me so much credit.” I pushed my way through the door and started downstairs. It wasn’t that I was turning my back on my friend, though I have to admit it felt pretty satisfying at the moment. 

More important at the moment was the fact that I had a client who needed to know I’d let the cure slip away. 

**

Surprisingly, Sydney took the news well. 

“I can’t be sure without seeing security footage, but I’m almost positive the operative who broke into Kostan’s vault is named Julian Sark.” Sydney slowly paced the width of my apartment, silhouetted against my bookshelves. “He’s freelance – a man without allegiance. But very definitely a man with a price.” 

“That’s bad.” 

“Maybe not. He’s looking for a buyer, and he might be willing to sell to me.” 

“Can you meet his price? The kind of operation Sark was running didn’t look cheap.” 

“Rambaldi’s artifacts never come cheap.” Sydney gazed at the fireplace, her stare distant, like she was remembering other times. “My father left me a great deal of money. If I use that to shut Sloane down for good -- there’s absolutely nothing I could do with it that would have made Dad happier.” 

After 60 years of putting the money I didn’t have to spend on food or medical expenses into blue-chip stocks, I was pretty sure I’d never be hurting for cash again – even if I did live for another several centuries. But I’d never earned a fortune for its own sake, like Josef. There was no way I could bid on the kind of scale Sydney was suggesting. 

That didn’t mean I was out of the game. 

“You said Josef didn’t just have a supply of the cure. You said he could make as much as he wanted.” 

“Enough for you, you mean.” Sydney cocked her head. Her long hair shone in the firelight. “I thought everybody wanted to live forever.” 

“Do you?” 

She sighed. “No. It’s just hard to remember, sometimes – dealing with all this Rambaldi craziness – that there are actually sane people in the world.” 

I remembered Josef saying, _You want that cure too badly._ But I didn’t let myself think about it too long. “Any way you can deal me in?” I tried to make the words come out casually, like it was no big deal. 

That was a stupid thing to do, because Sydney Bristow wasn’t a lady to be easily fooled. She stared at me hard, trying to figure out why I’d lie. But whatever she saw must have reassured her, because she began to nod slowly. “Even trying to deal with Sark straightforwardly for a change – I’m going to need backup. And I’d rather not involve anybody else from – anybody who isn’t already in the know.” 

I wondered what she’d nearly slipped up and said. My instincts said she was government, and whatever section she worked for, it wasn’t one of the ones you asked questions about. I kept my mouth shut. 

“In short, I need muscle.” Sydney’s sly smile made me think of pulp novels again. “Are you in, Mick?” 

Sark knew about vampires. He had a lot of power. He’d be prepared. In short, this was probably one of the most dangerous jobs I’d ever taken. 

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m in.” 

**

“The hell you are!” Beth bounded up from her sofa, like her body couldn’t even contain her anger. “You’re not going to go risking your life – unlife – whatever it is to run after more of the cure!” 

“It’s worth it to me.” 

“It isn’t to me.” 

“Beth – don’t you understand?” I wanted to take her hand, but it felt wrong with her looking at me like that, like I’d just taken away her last friend. “This is for us.” 

“This is for you.” Her voice was so small, so sad. “I don’t care if you’re a vampire. I don’t care if our life together wouldn’t be normal. I want you just as you are. Why can’t you accept that? Why can’t you be with me?” 

I should’ve just grabbed her right then. I should’ve kissed her so hard neither of us could remember what we’d been arguing about. And I should’ve never let her go. 

Instead I said, “I can’t give you something broken when there’s any chance of giving you something whole.” 

Beth slumped into a chair near the corner. Her head drooped, and her fair hair tumbled down, obscuring her expression. She used to sit like that sometimes when she was a little girl. It cut me to the quick every single time. 

“There’s no way I can stop you, is there?” she asked. 

“Nothing on earth is going to stop me from returning to you.” 

“That’s a no.” Beth wiped at her cheek, and I wondered how it was possible to do everything for her but hurt her all the same. 

When I was human again, I told myself, everything could be different.

**

The rendezvous point was an empty office building in the heart of L.A. Weird, a nice complex in the business district being vacant – particularly for as long as it looked like this place had been. A sign for the last tenant, something called _Credit Dauphine_ , had chipped letters. The windows were dusty. 

“You’d think somebody would’ve wanted this location,” I said. 

“It’s still off-limits.” Sydney walked into the deserted parking garage like she’d done it a thousand times before. “Crime scene.” 

She led me down into the building’s basement, which turned out to be about five stories deep. Inside were the remnants of an office, but a strange one – with keyboards and wires still dangling from the ceilings, and rough, unfinished concrete walls. A few punches at a fuse box brought up emergency lighting, low and red. 

Sydney paused at one office, which was even more bare than most of the rest. When she saw me watching her, she said, “This was where my dad worked.” 

“You must’ve spent a lot of time in there.” 

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because her face tightened and she turned her head away. “Sark said he’d meet us in the main conference room. I’d like to beat him there.” 

“Too late,” I said. “I hear two more heartbeats already. Did he say he was bringing backup?”

“No, but it wouldn’t surprise me. You can listen to the heartbeats from here?” I nodded. Sydney murmured, “We should really look into recruitment.” 

The two of us walked through the wreckage of the office. The more I looked around, the more I realized this place hadn’t been destroyed by pure neglect. Two bullet holes scarred one wall, and on the floor, I saw scraps of tape that might once have outlined a dead body. I knew better than to ask for details. 

The frosted glass walls of the conference room hadn’t been broken, though, so we had to walk through the door to see Sark. Despite the broken-down surroundings and the reddish glow of the emergency lights, he was sitting at the table like it was any other day. To my surprise, the first words he said were, “Sydney. My condolences. Your mother’s death was a blow to me as well.” 

“She had a choice,” Sydney said sharply. “My father and sister didn’t.” 

“I didn’t know them. Not really. Irina I knew and honestly mourn. Your mother – became desperate, near the end. I think Nadia’s death changed her, and not for the better.” Sark genuinely looked sad. How connected were these guys? “We can at least agree that this spring’s events were tragic in the extreme.” 

“We don’t have to agree on anything but a price.” Sydney put her hands on the table. “Am I the highest bidder?” 

Sark shook his head. “No. You are, however, my preferred bidder. You didn’t offer the most money – but you offered enough, and I suspect we share the same goals for the cure’s use. That wasn’t something I could say for the other would-be buyers.” 

“Where’s your backup?” I demanded.

“Outside,” Sark said, never looking away from Sydney. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Have you finally found a replacement for Mr. Vaughn? I must say, a vampire is at least an interesting way for you to go.” 

But Sydney wouldn’t be baited. “Tell me how we’re going to exchange the goods.” 

“Upon the transfer of funds, I’ll personally lead you to the doses I have on hand, plus the artifacts for creating more of the cure. It’s very close by. With my backup.” 

“Your backup is closer than that,” I said. “I can hear the heartbeat. They’re inside.” 

Sydney scowled. “A double-cross. Why am I even surprised?” 

Sark rose to his feet. “Sydney, I assure you, my backup is not on the premises. If your undead cohort hears a heartbeat –“ 

I finished the sentence for him. “We’re not alone.” 

At that instant, the emergency lights shut off, and we were swallowed by the dark. 

Sydney and Sark both tensed; for humans, being trapped in total darkness is a nightmare. I’m not a big fan of it myself, though being a vampire helps. As my fangs slid into my mouth, my eyes changed, revealing the hidden world. Instead of color, there was stark black and white; movement and detail became even sharper and clearer. More than enough to go by. 

“Stick with me,” I said. I was only talking to Sydney, though I suspected Sark would be along for the ride. “We’re gonna go back the way we came.” 

“My vehicle might be closer,” Sark offered. 

“No way,” I said. “You could’ve set this whole thing up.” 

“I agree.” Sydney put one hand on my arm, breathed out sharply in irritation as Sark no doubt did the same to her. “Lead the way.” 

We began making our way across the room, newly aware of every sound we made. It’s amazing how loud one shoe stepping on broken glass can be. I kept focusing on that other heartbeat, which was slow and even – almost calm. Not like Sydney and Sark: They weren’t panicking, and were in fact a lot steadier than almost any other humans I’d ever seen in a similar situation, but the adrenalin was going. Whoever had come to watch us was so chilled-out he could’ve been ready to lie down for a nap. 

The heartbeat was close. Very close. So much so I didn’t dare even tell Sydney – we’d be overheard. 

I shouldn’t have bothered worrying about it. Because that moment, a man’s voice called, “Sydney? Could you step into my office, please?” 

Sydney and Sark both froze. It was Sark who whispered, “Sloane.” 

“You as well, Mr. Sark.” Sloane sounded at ease. Almost – amused. From one corner, a light came on – soft and yellowish, from within another cubicle with frosted-glass walls. 

I shot Sydney a look, and from the nod she gave me, I knew she understood. She and Sark would step into the office to find out what Sloane wanted, and I’d stay outside to provide the element of surprise – and the muscle – if it was needed. 

Though I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to take out anybody immortal. At least vampires could be staked, burned or beheaded. Short of using the cure to make this guy mortal, there was no way to kill him. Too bad Sark had to be so damned careful; if he’d brought some of the cure with him, we could’ve wrapped this situation up in about five minutes. 

Sydney and Sark went toward the door, and Sydney pushed it open. Inside, I could see a man – short but strongly built, mid-60s, with neatly cut gray hair and a designer suit. He had his hands clasped around a tumbler of water, and he smiled when he saw her. “Sydney,” he said gently. 

For a moment I wondered if she’d misidentified the voice and it was actually her father, back from the dead. But no – this wasn’t the office she’d showed me before, and Sydney wasn’t smiling back. 

She didn’t shut the door, either, making sure that I could still see in from my dark corner. Sydney Bristow was a smart lady. 

“It’s good to see you,” Sloane said to Sydney. “You’re looking well.” 

“No thanks to you.” Sydney’s heartbeat quickened – not with fear, I thought. More likely anger. If half of what she’d said about Arvin Sloane was true, she had plenty of reason to be mad. 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“So you killed nearly everyone I ever loved? Nice work. I don’t know what brought you back to Los Angeles, but I promise you, you are going to be sorry.” 

“I would apply that word to Mr. Sark,” Sloane said. “Julian, I apologize, but I’ve already repatriated my Rambaldi artifacts, and the cure. As Sydney would never be so foolish as to pay before delivery, I fear you’re out a great deal of money.” 

Sark’s jaw tightened, but he was as cautious around Sloane as Sydney, in his way. He remained steady. “The risk of all speculative ventures. However, I should inform you that I consider our professional ties severed. Permanently.” 

“All things in time.” Sloane kept looking at Sydney the whole time. His face was lit up, like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The disconnect between what this guy felt and what he did was pretty extreme. 

Sydney was taking the news about the cure badly. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “There is no way I’ll ever let you wander around enjoying Rambaldi’s immortality. Never. If I can’t kill you, I will find a way to – to ruin this for you.” 

“Jack tried that,” Sloane said. “He very nearly succeeded. Trapped me under a boulder – ingenious, don’t you think? And painful. Very like your father. If it hadn’t been for a convenient earthquake, I might have remained there for centuries.” 

“How – how did he do that?” Sydney’s confusion had apparently outweighed everything else she felt. “Was that – the cave, the explosion, I never understood why Dad did that – but he knew, didn’t he? He knew that you’d risen from the dead.” 

Sloane nodded wearily. “When he returned to the cave, I welcomed him, Sydney. I hated having to shoot your father. I offered him a chance to live – not only to survive his wound, but also to share in immortality. Jack would finally have understood what Rambaldi could do. He would have stood at my side. But his temper got the best of him. He chose to hurt me, even though it cost him his life.” 

A sob escaped Sydney’s throat, and she pressed her fingers to her mouth, as though trying to keep herself from betraying any more emotion. But even I could tell how shaken she was by what she’d heard, and how moved she was. 

What got to me, though, was realizing how completely unhinged this guy Sloane was. The struggle for immortality and power – yeah, I got that. I might not think much of it, but I understood it. What I didn’t understand was how Sloane had gotten so twisted around that he hurt the people he loved and blamed them for their own deaths at his hands. Rambaldi really had turned this guy into a lunatic. Mentally I apologized to Josef for blowing up at him earlier, because he’d been trying to talk sense to me, even if I couldn’t hear it. I’d make up for that later. 

Worst of all: I could hear the echo of Sloane’s insanity in my own words. 

No, I wasn’t obsessed with Rambaldi – yet. But hadn’t I pushed Beth away more since learning about the cure? Wasn’t I making that the whole test of whether or not we could be together? Maybe that was what Rambaldi did to people. Maybe it stopped you from being able to see. 

Finally Sydney managed to say to Sloane, “Dad was so much stronger than you.” 

“Are you even listening to me, Sydney?” Sloane stood behind his desk. “I’m telling you – Jack doesn’t have to be dead.” 

What the hell?

Sydney took a step backward. Even Sark straightened, and he was the one who said, “You’re saying that the cure –“

“Can restore anyone unliving to life. The immortal or the dead.” Sloane’s smile had become more unsettling. Maybe it was because he obviously thought they were actually getting somewhere. “Well, not anyone. The dead have to have died in the proximity of Rambaldi’s other artifacts. But that’s true for both Jack and Nadia.” 

“And Mom,” Sydney whispered. 

But Sloane shook his head. “I saved two doses, Sydney. Only two. I'm not free to move around Los Angeles; I can’t get into the mausoleum. You can. You can restore them to life, if you want.” 

He tossed a small black box toward Sydney. I saw Sark flinch, like he wanted to go after it, but his gaze flickered toward me. He knew there was no way he was walking out with the cure while I was there to back Sydney up, so Sark stayed put. Sydney caught the box easily. 

“The choice is yours, Sydney.” Sloane sighed. “It is literally in your hands. If killing me is so important – do it. Waste a dose of the cure for the sake of revenge. Or you can let me walk out of here and know that I share your joy in the restoration of our family.” 

Sloane walked around his desk and paused at the door, so close to Sydney he could have touched her. Her face was drawn and white, her heartbeat faster than ever. I knew how badly she wanted to kick that guy’s ass. 

She didn’t move. 

“I look forward to the day we’ll all be together again,” Sloane said. Then he walked out. He passed right by me – not seeing me in the dark, because immortal or not, he didn’t have my kind of night vision – and I was tempted to spring out and give him the shock of his life. 

But a good PI listens to his client, and my client had more or less just told me to let Sloane go. 

Sloane paused at the outward edge of the light. “By the way, Sydney, Julian – you’ll want to leave this building as soon as possible. Within the next six minutes, as a matter of fact.” 

Sark took off running, that second. Sydney tensed, but she said, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean that, for once, I didn’t have enough faith in you.” For the first time, Sloane genuinely sounded ashamed. “The building is rigged to blow. Get out while you can.” 

Would he really set off explosives in this building? He was here too – and immortal, I reminded myself, impervious even to fire. Yeah, Sloane would blow the place. Sydney and I had to move. 

“Come on!” I shouted, not caring if Sloane heard me. I ran the way we’d come, holding out my hand. Sydney didn’t take it, but she caught up to me within seconds, running hard at my side. “We can get to the garage –“

“Too far!” She tugged at my shoulder. “This way!” 

I followed her lead, even though she was taking us deeper into the labyrinth. If Sydney was wrong, I was about five minutes from burning to death – but like I said, something about her told me to trust her instincts. 

The reddish emergency lighting switched back on. Maybe Sloane wanted to give her a fighting chance. Decent of him, after rigging the place to go up in flames. 

“The elevator bank,” Sydney said. “We can make it.” 

Remembering Sark’s escape from Josef’s building, I asked, “We’re going down?”

“Up and over. Grab onto me.” 

We skidded to the edge of the empty elevator shaft, where Sydney grabbed the small device at her waist I’d thought was a gun. She fired upward, sending a cable shooting up and finding purchase with a clang. I put my arms around Sydney’s shoulders, and the cable started towing us upward fast – but maybe not fast enough. 

“What floor?” I shouted. 

“Anything over 35! We need to look for an open door –“ 

I pushed away from Sydney so that I slammed into the wall of the elevator shaft – which gave me just enough leverage to leap upward. Vampires can’t fly – I wish – but we can damn sure jump, and we can cling to small indentations in walls and cables where a human would slide helplessly to the ground. I flung myself upward, five or six stories at a time, side to side within the shaft, looking for an open elevator door. I didn’t see one. 

So I did the next best thing: Chose a floor at random (47), steadied myself on a nearby beam and just ripped the door open. “Sydney!” I called as I climbed through the bent metal. “Here! I’ll help you through!” 

She caught up to me about two seconds later, releasing the cable from the weapon without ever relaxing her grip on the handle. Sydney hit the ground running, leading me toward the west side of the building. “Come on.” 

“How long have we got?” I yelled.

“Two minutes.” 

“Tell me you’ve got a plan.” 

“I’ve always got a plan.” 

We were running through the empty office area toward the far west wall, where the glass windows had all become dusty with neglect. Beyond that, I could see the muted lights of the city and the milky outline of another office building close by. Sydney muttered, “We need something to throw, something big –“ 

I saw what she was after now. “I’ll do it. Just grab me as we go, okay?” 

“Go.” 

I ran as hard as I could toward the windows, Sydney directly behind me, and flung myself through. The pane shattered in a thousand directions, and for a split second it all seemed to be happening in slow motion – me, 47 floors above the ground, starting to fall, surrounded by shards of glass like glittering diamonds. But even as I felt the burn of the cuts and the tug of gravity, I felt Sydney slamming into my back, one arm curving around my waist as the other reached around me to fire another cable. 

The cable snaked across to the rooftop of the next building. As our fall turned into an arc, I grabbed Sydney as tightly as she’d grabbed me. Better if I could be the one to go through the glass again, though at this point I’d settle for just not plummeting to the ground. 

We slammed through the window, pane breaking into splinters across my side. The two of us rolled to the floor, gasping for air. For a moment we just lay there amid the glass, a scene of total wreckage in the middle of an otherwise completely ordinary office. 

Then the Credit Dauphine building blew. 

Every window on the whole floor shattered, and I shielded my eyes from the white light of it. The heat seared my skin – but only for a second. This building wasn’t going down too. We’d made it. 

**

Sydney and I got out of there as quickly as we could. The cops would no doubt show up within minutes, and neither of us wanted to answer any questions. “You’re sure you’re okay?” she said, as I pulled a shard of glass from my hair. Small cuts covered my face and hands; I probably looked like a bloody wreck. If Beth could see me now, she’d get in a well-deserved _I told you so._

“Fine. Should heal up in a couple of minutes. What about you, Sydney?” 

“I wasn’t injured.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

She pulled the black box from the pocket of her jacket. The cure had made the journey with us. “I guess I’m still trying to process it all.” 

“Do you think Sloane was telling the truth about your sister and your dad?” 

“Yeah. In his own twisted way, he loved them too.” Sydney swallowed hard. She looked up at me squarely, and her smile was forced. I didn’t understand her expression until she said, “I haven’t forgotten that one of these doses belongs to you.” 

She flipped open the black box. There, glistening like blood in the flickering light of the burning building behind us, were two small vials of the cure. One of them contained my humanity. 

For a moment, that was all I could think about. All I could see. 

But then I saw other things too. That Josef had been right about what loving Rambaldi’s works did to you, and that I’d surrendered my humanity the first time someone I cared about was in danger. Would I just choose vampirism again the next time, and start obsessing about the cure all over again? 

I saw that Beth loved me just as I was, and believed I was using my vampirism as an excuse for us not to be together. I saw that if she was right, I’d come up with another excuse later. 

I saw Sydney honoring her promise to me, even though it meant she had to choose between saving the life of her father and the life of her sister -- a choice nobody should ever have to make. 

I remembered what steak tasted like. How good it had felt to lie out in the sun. How amazing it was to have breath in your lungs. How desperately I’d tried to cling to that last beat of my heart. 

Then I reached out and shut the box, with both doses still inside. 

Sydney looked up at me, surprised. I said, “Normally I charge $500 a day, plus expenses. Maybe we should go with the usual fee.” 

“Are you sure?” Sydney couldn’t quite believe it, and neither could I. But I knew I was making the right choice. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I felt a weight lifting from me as I let it go. It wasn’t saying goodbye to humanity that made me feel better – trust me, that part was hard. But I knew that I’d be with Beth before the night was through, in her arms, in her bed. I was finally ready to be with her just as I was. "What about you? Are you sure?" 

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

"Something I've learned in the last couple of days -- this Rambaldi business always carries a big price tag. And I don't mean money." 

"I know what you mean," Sydney said. "But I'll be okay. I've already paid in full."

As we walked along the street, sirens and smoke in our wake, I offered her my arm and she took it. Confronting mortal enemies, escaping an exploding building, talking about raising the dead: For some people, that would be one hell of an show. But for us, I figured, it was just another evening in L.A. I said, “You’re paying me for the whole day. Anywhere else you want to go before the clock runs out at midnight?” 

Slowly, Sydney grinned -- and it turned out she had the most amazing smile when she was happy. “The mausoleum. I want to do this now.” 

I smiled back. “Lucky for you, I know my way around a graveyard.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks muchly to my betas, Rheanna and Counteragent!


End file.
